Raising Amelia
by PenAndInkPrincess
Summary: A series of one-shots based off of the question: "What would have happened if the Doctor had been on time in picking up Amelia?" T for safety.
1. Chapter 1: Education

**Hi guys! This is an idea I've had for a while, after seeing that someone had written a one-shot about Amy having gotten picked up at the proper time. I thought it was a really intriguing idea and decided to run with it. So this is going to be a collection of fics surrounding the question, "What would it have been like if the Doctor had been on time?" **

It was an adjustment for the Doctor to have a child on board the Tardis. Though his companions were all young compared to him, Amelia Pond at seven was practically a baby.

Still, there was a lot to be said for a child's energy.

Where most adults would have raised an eyebrow or tsked in disapproval, little Amelia threw herself into every endeavor with glee, accepting the oddities of her new life with relish. Pink and purple beings with horns twisting from their heads? No problem. A species of aliens prone to excessive flatulence as a method of communicating? Giggle-worthy, but fascinating all the same. No creature was too strange, no culture too foreign. His small ginger companion eagerly undertook every adventure.

What the Doctor took the most joy in, however, was in seeing to Amelia's education.

Human children were remarkably similar to sponges. They just soaked up everything around them with ease, always ready for more.

Her education was piecemeal, a side effect of having no curriculum and all of time and space. Her math and science involved quantum mechanics, her arts studying the likes of Beethoven and Da Vinci as they worked, asking rapid-fire questions that no book would have been able to tell her. History was the only subject that got little attention. She knew what events happened, of course (she had witnessed most of the important ones personally), but every inquiry of when was met with a hand wave and an explanation of, "Eh. Wibbly wobbly."

Amelia even began learning the basics of piloting the TARDIS (though she showed little more skill in this than the Doctor, as she rarely got the right time or place, too). She aided the Doctor with repairs, handing him tools when he asked, her little face very grave in light of what she saw as a very solemn duty. Sometimes she even got to use the tools (under the Doctor's watchful eye, of course).

Eventually the day came when little Amelia became curious about the strange symbols that flashed on the screens of the TARDIS. She hadn't learned those yet.

"Doctor, what do those scribbly things mean?" She pointed to indicate one, a circle with a lot of lines and figures inside.

"They're words, Pond. Words in my language."

He braced himself, mulling over how best to deflect questions about his own past. That was one period of history he wasn't willing to teach her.

Amelia, more observant than she was given credit for, noticed the slip in the Doctor's smile and decided that her next question of: "What language is that?" was best left for another day. Instead she looked up at her Raggedy Man and smiled.

"Will you teach me?"

Blinking in surprise, the Doctor returned her smile after a moment with a half-grin of his own, half wondering what he had done in his past lives to deserve this small creature in his present.

"It would be my pleasure, Pond."

**That's it for now you guys! Please review to tell me what you thought and how I can improve. **


	2. Chapter 2: Makeover

Sometimes the Doctor considered the wisdom of bringing a singular little girl onto the Tardis.

He was currently on the floor of the bedroom Amelia had claimed as her own, sitting patiently (well, as patiently as he could) with his back against the bed as Amelia combed through his hair, braiding and decorating and ribboning and ponytailing and all sorts of girlish things that no Time Lord should ever have been subjected to.

"Are you almost done, Pond?" He asked, hoping against hope that the answer would be yes so he could finally retreat to the safety of his console.

"No!" She chirped.

He groaned and wilted slightly, glancing at the floor length mirror across the room to see Amelia working behind him, her little face reflecting intense concentration as her tongue peeked out from between her lips as she painstakingly pinned his hair into place.

He wondered, briefly, how he had been talked into this. He, the Incoming Storm, destroyer of worlds but protector of earth, had been cowed into playing hair salon by a seven-year-old little girl.

Luckily he had stashed a small generator in his pocket earlier and he tinkered with it idly where it rested on his lap, occasionally having his head adjusted by Amelia as she worked on her masterpiece.

They both worked quietly for a while on their individual projects, until Amelia finally decided she was finished.

She gleefully flounced off of her bed, and grabbed his hand, dragging him over to the mirror to inspect her handiwork. She pressed a smaller mirror into his hand and turned him around, grinning up at him hopefully, waiting for his praise.

He inspected her work, feigning intense consideration as she fidgeted next to him.

Eventually he took mercy on her and smiled.

"It's lovely Pond. You're quite the hair dresser."

She gave him a look that shifted from gleeful to downright devilish.

"Just wait until you see what I can do with cosmetics!"

As she drug him over to her lighted mirror stand, he could've sworn he heard the TARDIS snickering.


End file.
